


this little world of ours

by powderblew



Series: embers of gold and ink stains [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, HAPPY BIRTHDAY BBY GHORL, Sirius is smitten, Sirius never goes to Azkaban, and I will laugh, baby!harry - Freeform, godfather!Sirius, harry is a marauder in the making, hermione is cute, it's what he deserves, leather jackets because what is sirius black without one?, one day sirius will write wax poetry, same age au, sirius is harry's dad now, sirius thinks he's going to go bald by the end of harry's adolescence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28661976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/powderblew/pseuds/powderblew
Summary: Sirius can’t leave him alone for one second. —Hermione/Sirius
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Hermione Granger
Series: embers of gold and ink stains [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2003962
Comments: 11
Kudos: 111





	this little world of ours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [juberrie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/juberrie/gifts).



Here’s the thing:

Sirius Orion Black _loves_ shopping.

He adores it.

He loves shopping for groceries. When he walks down the aisle, musing over the little tins of tea – except red tea because it tastes like a wet rag – when his fingers gloss over slippery labels of biscuits, when he smells the earthy scent of fresh herbs from the vegetable section, or when he muses the section of yogurts that seem to be imported from eastern Europe. He likes cooking because watching his godson tilts his head and stare at his gourmet dish in front of him just makes something inside of him fissure in crackles of warmth.

Sirius loves going into muggle stores, seeing vintage records, music players, electronics – is that what they call it? – poking at the little oddities down on Baker Street and Harry just loves it when the house is engulfed in music.

He loves shopping for clothes. Sometimes, he gets Harry and himself little matching outfits. It’s lame, uncool and a little pathetic – Moony likes to tease him – but then Harry gets the biggest smile on his face when he yells, “Pads!”

So when Sirius decides to attend this _clearance sale_ in the muggle world during the holiday season, he really had no idea what to expect.

.

James and Lily had died that faithful night and instead of running off to catch the rat bastard—he heard the tears of his favorite godson and, well he couldn’t just _leave_ him to go avenge his best friends. He couldn’t leave Harry, who just lost his parents, his family, for vengeance alone. Not even when Remus arrived at the scene with the Aurors.

Where there are tears, there is sorrow and just a bit of happiness. Happiness because Sirius still had Harry and Remus. Sorrow for the loss of his two other friends. He thinks he’s fortunate that Remus had arrived before he could lose his head and track down Pettigrew.

Because Remus had to talk some sense into him and point out that Harry is Sirius’s responsibility, and that his godson comes _first._ Not revenge nor vengeance.

But that doesn’t make the hate go away nor does it take away the pain.

That comes later.

.

They find him, however. A year later. A relentless pursuit from what Remus told him and he was put away in Azkaban. Some days Sirius wishes that he could kill the rat, but it wouldn’t bring back James or Lily. Harry reminds him of that every day, it’s like when he first started walking and cried when he couldn’t reach the Black heir fast enough.

Sirius swears to this _day,_ that he absolutely did not start bawling.

He swears.

Moony knows better.

.

“Harry,” Sirius beams with excitement and shifts his weight on his hip. He points to a glossy black leather jacket that sits a mannequin model, “Harry look at that _jacket_! It’s got pockets and a silver zipper. I’m pretty sure it’s some real expensive rock, yeah? Isn’t it _beautiful_?”

Harry giggles and tugs on a dark strand abruptly.

He winces at the tug and tries to untangle loose fingers from his soft hair. “Easy there. C’mon, let’s go inside.”

Sirius is glad for charms because carrying a stroller, a baby bag, and his other shopping bags isn’t _easy._ He’s shoved the baby bag underneath the stroller pouch and hangs the shopping bags on the handles as he carries Harry with one hand and rolls the stroller with the other.

Harry babbles on, tugging on the silver chain, and watches the string lights twinkle over the moldings. He gasps when he sees the big Christmas tree near the appliance section and points, “Pads!”

“I know, Harry,” Sirius soothes him with a kiss on the top of his head, “When we get home we can decorate the tree, kay?”

He squeals into his ear.

His godfather winces at the high-piercing sound but smiles when he laughs.

.

Sirius’s hip starts to ache from holding onto the little prongslet, so he huffs and sets him down on his feet, “Alright Harry, I’m going to check this jacket.”

“Pads!”

“Yes, yes,” he offers his hand and Harry’s tiny hand wraps around his middle and pointer finger as he walks with his godfather down the aisle.

“Now son, there are few important things you need to remember when picking out a leather jacket,” Sirius starts his lecture as they walk over to the men’s section, ignoring the tittering muggles who stare at the duo, “You need to figure out what kind of leather you want and what color. Obviously, we’re getting black because we are Blacks. You want to make sure it’s not too big or you might look like Moony on a bad day.”

Harry giggles.

Sirius grins at that and lets go of his hand to pick out a jacket on display, “You don’t want it too fitted because how are you going to wear a jumper underneath? And always go with the grain prongslet, because if you don’t go with the grain that means it’s cheap and we posh boys do not go for—Harry?”

Concerned when he doesn’t hear Harry, the Black heir looks down and is horrified to see his godson missing.

.

Sirius’s anxiety knows no bounds when he’s stumbling all over the department store looking for his godson, half-manic with panic, the stroller tilts on its wheels when he runs down the mattress department, pass intimates, and stumbles across back to appliances.

_Of course._

The Christmas tree.

“Listen,” another voice starts from his left. It’s soft, feminine, and almost as if it’s amused, “You can’t pull on the garland because the tree has feelings.”

Sirius goggles at that and when he walks closer – relief settles in his stomach – he sees Harry pouting at a woman with very, _very_ curly hair.

“Tree!” Harry points.

She sighs and crouches so she’s eye-level with him, “I know, but the tree is really big and if you pull on this,” she fingers the shiny, golden tinsel, “It’s going to hurt the tree, then the tree is going to cry and fall. Do you want the tree to be sad?”

Harry thinks about it for a moment and then shakes his head.

“That’s right, so you can’t pull on the garland, okay,” she makes a move to stand up, but then sees a small red ornament underneath the tree and she reaches.

Sirius watches curiously.

“I think the tree will forgive you if you can make him look pretty,” she offers him an ornament, smiling at his little dramatic gasp, “Think you can do it?”

He nods his head excitedly and hangs the ornament on a nearby branch. The ornament about to roll off the evergreen and Sirius almost laughs when the girl scrambles to catch it.

“Okay,” she laughs and gives him the ornament, “Let’s try this again.”

This time, she helps Harry hook the loop onto a branch.

Harry laughs and claps his hand.

“Harry!” Sirius decides to cut the moment.

“Pads!” Harry runs over to him with a smile on his face, “Tree!”

“You are in trouble young man,” he tries to remain stern because his face is one that can melt butter. The terror of losing James and Lily never really left, “No dessert for you.”

“Pads,” he whimpers.

“No,” Sirius picks him up and holds him close. Muscles melting when his tiny arms wrap around his neck, the knot at the back of his neck loosening. He looks over to the woman who stands up now and says gratefully, “Thank you.”

“Oh,” she turns to face him, with amber-colored eyes and mountains of curly hair. She smiles shyly, “It’s fine. He was just about to pull down the tree and I couldn’t let him get hurt, so.”

She’s almost rambling, her cheeks pink and she grabs her shopping bags.

She’s pretty.

 _Really_ pretty. Almost too pretty to be in a store like this and Sirius doesn’t want her to leave—not any more than Harry does because he calls for her, “Mi!”

Mi, flushes again.

“Hermione,” she says and tugs a strand of hair behind her ear, “It’s quite a mouthful. I’m surprised he can say that.”

“Sirius Black,” he introduces himself because it may have been some months since he’s been on a date, but he does know how to be charming—at least he hopes so and offers his hand.

“Hermione Granger,” Hermione accepts and then furrows her brows, “I feel like I’ve heard your name before.”

Sirius raises his brows at that, “Have you?”

She removes her hand from his and he misses it.

“Black, like,” she wrinkles her nose and it’s cute, “Like Regulus Black?”

The blood drains from his face, “You know my brother?”

“We went to school together,” Hermione looks at him cautiously, “I didn’t know—”

“Oh,” he pauses, and then he takes a step closer, “You went to Hogwarts.”

“Yes,” she hesitates, and then her eyes widens, “You’re a wiz—”

Sirius nods and cuts her off, “Muggle-born?”

Hermione stiffens and takes another step back.

He winces at his tact, “No, I’m sorry. I mean—I’m not like my family. I’ve been disowned, you see. Because I went against their rules or whatever pureblood nonsense—”

“No, it’s okay,” she exhales and laughs a little, “I get it.”

Sirius relaxes a little too.

“Pads!” Harry tugs on his hair again.

“I see you’ve met my Godson, Harry Potter,” Sirius says ruefully and then tells him, “What do we say to Ms. Granger for keeping you safe?”

“’Ank you, Mi!” he beams and waves his hand.

Hermione smiles softly at that, “You’re welcome Harry,” she glances at her watch, “Well, I’ll see you around maybe?”

“Um,” Sirius says intelligently, he’s really lost his mind these past months, that much he’s sure, “Do you want to get a coffee or something?”

He internally winces.

“Sorry,” she laughs and tightens her grip on her bags, “I have errands to run. I’ll see you around, Black,” then she grins at the toddler, “Harry.”

Sirius sighs deeply when she leaves.

“Isn’t she pretty, Prongslet?”

“Mi!” Harry claps his hands, “Mi, Mi, Mi!”

“I _know,_ Harry.”

.

Sirius takes a sip of his firewhiskey after retelling Remus his stressful and wonderful day.

“Hermione Granger?” Remus frowns.

He sighs, “She’s so pretty, Moony. She has great lips and hair and eyes. She even smells good like cinnamon and ink. I didn’t even know ink had a smell.”

“Hermione Granger as in Hermione Granger, the _Assistant Director of the Department of Magical Creatures_ , Hermione Granger?” the werewolf looks perplexed, “She’s not only pretty, but she’s considered the _Brightest Witch of her Age_. She received all O’s on her NEWTS, Sirius,” he laughs, “You sure know how to pick your birds.”

Sirius straightens up and demands, “You know her?”

“I see her once a week for department meetings _and_ she’s a muggleborn. It has to be her, right? I don’t know how she got a position in the Ministry…considering her blood and all of that, but,” Remus shrugs, “She’s a good person.”

“Set me up with her!”

“What?”

“Set me up with her, Moony,” Sirius repeats bluntly and puts his glass on the table, “I like her. Harry likes her.”

“Sirius,” Remus sighs and crosses his arms underneath his chest, “Hermione is not a witch to be trifled with. I mean it. She’s not a notch in your bedpost and I’m not going—”

“Remus,” he scowls and his coal orbs darker, “I _like_ her.”

“ _Oh_.”

.

“How pretty?”

“Her hair looks like a cloud and her eyes are like firewhiskey and—and her lips are so soft and perfect,” Sirius hiccups and rubs his face, “She laughs and I swear the world stops.”

“That’s enough firewhiskey for you,” Remus grabs the bottle and tosses it out the window, “Soon you’re going to be writing wax poetry.”

“Thy vixen with the moonlight of—”

Remus tosses a pillow at his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Pls stop asking for a continuation lmao  
> catch me on tumblr [@powderblew](https://powderblew.tumblr.com)


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